


When the Clock Strikes Twelve

by Kacka



Series: Kacka Does a Thing [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Octavia wants to do New Year's Eve in Times Square right, and there's no way Bellamy is letting her go by herself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from @jttorkildson inspired by [this article](http://www.refinery29.com/2016/12/133936/times-square-new-years-eve-midnight-kiss)! hope you like it, thanks for sending it in!

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Octavia reminds him. “In fact, it might be more fun for me if you don’t. There’s still time to turn back, you know.”

“You wish.” Bellamy shoots back. She rolls her eyes, the sign of a big brother’s job well done. “What if they pair you up with some creeper? Or someone really gross?”

“Yeah, but what if they pair me up with someone really hot?” Octavia points out. Bellamy wrinkles his nose. “It’s not like we have to make out for a long time. It’s one little on-air kiss at midnight, and we get to do Times Square the fun way.”

“I’m not sure there _is_ a fun way,” he grumbles, pushing through the crowds. 

Many of them, like Bellamy and his sister, are already decked out for the late-night celebrations, and it’s noticeably more packed than on a normal afternoon. For Times Square, that’s really saying something.

“If you’re going to be a party pooper, maybe I should un-invite you,” she says, elbowing a tourist out of her way. “For trying to do Times Square on New Year’s Eve, this is absolutely the best way. We get breaks, we get snacks, we get our fifteen minutes of fame, and we’re delivered someone to kiss at midnight on a silver platter. If you weren’t here, you’d be sad and alone in your apartment while Miller is out with his boyfriend. And if you tried to do Times Square the chump way, you’d be starving and cranky and wearing an adult diaper. So stop trying to ruin this for me.”

“Okay, okay,” Bellamy relents. “Fine. Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agrees. “But I will be a better sport from here on out.”

Octavia has been trying to break into the world of movies and TV since she graduated high school, basically. She moved out to LA for a while, aiming not for stardom but for regular work as a stuntwoman. 

About a year ago, she moved back to New York with a semi-steady position as the stunt double for some actress on one of those cable procedurals. She’s guaranteed the work when it’s called for, but that isn’t often. Only a couple of times a season, when there’s an intense fight scene, or a dramatic fall from a building or something.

So she keeps her ear to the ground for paid jobs as an extra, and somehow found out about the spot on the New Year’s Eve special.

Bellamy is pretty sure she told him about it because she _wanted_ him to tag along. She might be great at stunts, but an actress she is not, and her attempt at casual when she mentioned the details only served to highlight that fact.

And sure, he’s predictable. The minute she mentioned it, he insisted on tagging along. Just in case something were to happen. Drunks and weirdos are always a given in Times Square, but he suspects they’ll be out in full force tonight.

No matter what they pretend, they both know why she asked, and they both know why he took her up on it. They’re on the same page. This is just how their relationship works sometimes.

As soon as they get there, a couple of guys latch on to his sister. One of them is lanky, with shaggy brown hair and a face that looks more friendly than vulture-like. He seems to be all enthusiasm, gesturing wildly to the chagrin of his friend: an easygoing Asian guy whose primary goal seems to not be hitting on his sister so much as reigning his buddy in.

“Calm yourself. They’re harmless,” a voice at his elbow says. 

He looks over in surprise, finding a blonde woman standing beside him. She’s not decked out in a sparkly dress and tottering heels like the other women in the room, instead dressed head-to-toe in black, with an official-looking headset and a lanyard around her neck that identifies her as _Griffin, Clarke_.

Producer, he figures. Or maybe an intern, based on how young she is. Either way, he’s pretty sure she’s working the broadcast behind the scenes.

“Am I that obvious?”

“You’re kind of glaring at them,” she points out, smirking. She’s got a beauty mark above her lip that is incredibly distracting. “Luckily, I’m the only one who noticed. Unluckily, I’m the one who decides whether you get on camera or not, so you should really do something about your whole vibe. Angry and/or resentful isn’t really the vibe we’re going for on a New Year’s Eve special.”

His lips quirk in a smile. “Good note. I’ll try to work on that.”

“See that you do.” She returns his smile in full, bright and beautiful. “It would be a shame to send you home.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. You and-- I assume that’s your sister and you guys are the Blakes?” He nods and she types something into her tablet. “You two are very photogenic. Gonna look great on camera.”

“Oh, good. That was my biggest worry.”

“Glad I could set you at ease,” she says and Bellamy snorts. “Do you have any other, smaller worries I can address for you?”

“I’m mostly wondering how it all works.”

Clarke gives him a knowing look. “Wondering who you get to kiss at midnight?”

“Would you believe me if I said I’ve put more thought into who my sister might get stuck with?”

“Actually, yes,” she laughs. “But it’s pretty straightforward. A lot of our extras are couples who signed up together, so they’re already set. The singles we gather toward the end of the night and pair them up if they don’t pick for themselves.”

“She gets to pick?” Bellamy groans, casting a furtive glance around the room. “Then my money is on the guy in the huge guy with the tattoos in the corner.”

“Lincoln,” she supplies helpfully. “He’s a friend of mine, actually. She could do worse.”

“He looks like he could crush me with one hand.”

“So he’s hot and she gets to screw with you all in one play? Seems like the obvious choice to me,” Clarke teases. When he makes a face at her, ready to deliver a scathing comeback (which he hasn’t quite come up with yet), he finds her giving him a very obvious once-over and the words evaporate on his tongue.

“I wouldn’t count you out just yet though,” she says, tossing him another smirk as an alarm on her tablet goes off. “Oops, time to rally the troops. Nice talking to you, though.”

“Yeah,” he says, still a little flustered. “You too.”

She gives the room an overview of the night’s schedule-- when they’ll be out dancing, when they’ll get to retreat to the warm and comfortable holding room for snacks and bathroom breaks-- and a spiel on how to behave when the camera is on them.

He gets lumped in a group with his sister and her new friends, whom he learns are named Jasper and Monty, and a couple of other girls who are introduced as Harper and Emori.

And it’s-- okay, it’s pretty fun. The others are nice enough, even if Emori’s smile is a little bit sharp for him to let his guard all the way down, and they do get pretty prime placement to see the acts. It’s fun to watch his sister enjoying herself, fun to watch Jasper’s slightly spastic dancing, even fun to see Monty grab Harper’s hand and twirl her around.

All the same, he’s glad for the break when it comes, and even more glad to see Clarke sitting on the couch, immersed in her tablet. He breaks away from his crowd tentatively, unsure whether he should bother her until he sees that she’s got Twitter open.

“So are you our babysitter?” He asks, dropping down next to her. She looks up with a smile.

“I’m doing other things too.”

“Yeah, I can see you’re very busy.”

“I’ll have you know I get paid to know what people are saying about our show,” she sniffs. “Look, here’s one about you.”

“About me?” She turns the tablet to face him and he rolls his eyes when he sees that Miller has screenshotted a frame of Bellamy on camera, mouth half-open and eyes rolled back in a weird position. Miller has captioned it, _@bellamybalakay living the dream (if the dream is to make this face on national tv) #ARKNewYearsSpecial_

“I’m lucky to have such good friends,” he deadpans. Clarke smiles, and something like triumph bubbles in his chest.

“I was gonna say. So how’s it going out there?”

“Cold and crowded, but a good time. Are you sequestered in here the whole night or do you get to join the festivities at some point?”

“Been there, done that,” she shrugs. “I’m not exactly bummed to miss it. You looked like you were having fun, though. Maybe not an _experienced_ dancer...”

He laughs. “You want to give me some tips? I’m all ears.”

“Loosen up.” She nudges him, sitting up and wiggling around on the seat. “It’s all in the hips.”

He imitates her, putting some attitude into it and is gratified when she laughs aloud. “Like this?”

“Yeah, just like that. You’re a quick learner.”

“I think I missed my calling.”

“Hey, it’s never too late to follow your dreams.” She makes a face. “I’m sorry, I think I just quoted one of my grandmother’s inspirational needlepoints.”

He smiles. “I think I can forgive you.”

She starts to say something else, but stops herself, checking the time on her screen. “You’ve got about five more minutes in here if you wanted to go get a snack or something.”

“Nah,” he says, settling in a little more. “I’m good where I am.”

And that’s the way it goes for most of the rest of the night: he laughs and exaggerates how good a time he’s having (not that it isn’t fun; he just normally prefers to hang back a little more) and jokes with his group, but when he comes back inside he always finds himself drifting back to Clarke.

“What’s your official job?” He asks at one point.

“Tonight, I’m your handler. Most of the time I’m an assistant to the producer.”

“I don’t know why I asked,” he admits. “That doesn’t really mean much to me. But be honest: is pimping out a bunch of strangers to sell fake romance the weirdest thing you’ve ever had to do on the job?”

Clarke cocks her head, thinking it over.

“I tried to teach a parrot how to say our slogan once for a human interest piece.”

He laughs, startled. “Did it work?”

“Oh, it could repeat the phrase back to me just fine. When it was only the two of us. Once we put him on camera, of course all he would say were the dirty pick-up lines his owner taught him.”

“Please tell me you have the video of that somewhere.”

“I may have saved it,” she smirks. “And if you play your cards right, I might even be willing to share it.”

Bellamy feels his face warm when she holds eye contact. “Well then, I’d better play my cards right.”

 

At the ten thirty break, the holding room is empty when they get there. He tries to be discreet about searching for her but before he can do a detailed sweep his sister smacks him on the back of the head.

“Ouch,” he grouses, though it didn’t hurt in the slightest. “What was that for?”

“You aren’t very subtle,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“What?”

“Don’t pull that, Bell. I know you’ve been flirting with the technician.”

“She’s the producer’s assistant.”

“Does that matter?” Octavia asks, eyebrows lifting. “You don’t get to kiss her at midnight either way. So you should probably start scoping out another option.”

“You get that this isn’t speed dating, right? I don’t have to keep the person they pair me up with, just kiss them for a few seconds.”

“Say what you want, but I think this is the perfect opportunity for a hookup.”

“So you’ve got your eye set on someone in particular, then?”

“If I do, I’m not telling you,” she sniffs. “You’ll just make it weird.”

“Then be glad Clarke is around, distracting me from interfering with your game,” he says, flicking her ear. She scowls.

“Or you could just, you know, not be a dick.”

He grins. “I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Clarke sneaks in only a minute or so before they have to go back out, and to his delight, makes her way straight to him.

“You made it,” he grins. “I was beginning to worry about you.”

“Sorry I had to go do my _job_ ,” she teases.

“Yeah, you should be.”

She shakes her head and surveys the room, presumably making sure there isn’t anyone who needs her more than he does. “So,” she says, voice unreadable. “You pick someone yet?”

“For midnight?”

“Yep.”

“No, not yet.” He shrugs. “I’ll probably just let you pair me up with someone. But my sister confirmed that she made her choice already.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own. “What are you so worried about? You said your sister is a black belt; I’m pretty sure she can kick someone’s ass if they try to go for more action than she wants.”

“I’m really not as worried about the midnight kiss as I am about her taking the train or an uber home at three a.m. on her own,” he shrugs. Her face softens in understanding. “I know she can handle herself, but I didn’t have any other plans tonight and I know it’ll be better for my sanity than staying home and imagining all the things that could be going wrong.”

“That’s actually pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, gruff. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

There are a few more breaks before midnight, and each time he has to go out to the event he’s more disappointed to leave Clarke behind. The last time they’re sent out, they’re sent in their pairs.

Octavia does indeed end up with Clarke’s friend Lincoln, Jasper looking a little crestfallen at this turn of events. His dismay transforms into outright terror when Emori smiles at him like a shark.

Bellamy gets paired with Lincoln’s friend Anya who is beautiful, if both terrifying and terrifyingly cool. When the countdown begins, she arranges his hands firmly on her shoulders-- for which he’s relieved-- and when the producers tell them to start kissing, she plants her lips on his without fanfare.

There are no metaphorical fireworks (though there are several literal ones), and he’s glad when it’s over. Anya elects to stay, but Bellamy shuffles quickly back to the holding room which is warm and blessedly uncrowded. 

In fact, other than Clarke, the room is completely empty. She’s waiting by the window, having turned out all the lights so she could better enjoy the fireworks, and the way they cast soft colors across her face feels a little bit like magic.

“How'd I do?” He asks, suddenly and inexplicably nervous.

Clarke hums, considering as she steps closer. “It was… fine. Perfectly PG.”

“A ringing endorsement,” he laughs, his stomach unknotting a little when her smile looks a little nervous too.

“You didn’t look like you enjoyed it very much,” she admits. “I was thinking I could give you some more pointers.” She steps closer, one of her hands catching the lapel of his jacket and tugging slightly. 

He smiles, his own hands finding her waist. “I’m a very quick learner.”

“You know, I’ve heard that.”

He leans in, his nose bumping hers, then stops.

“It’s not midnight anymore,” he points out. She makes a frustrated noise and closes the space between them, her lips capturing his in a warm, playful kiss. 

It feels the way everyone expects a New Year’s midnight kiss to feel-- exciting and fun and promising. Something he wouldn’t mind doing again and again in the year to come.

“I really couldn’t care less about midnight,” she says when she pulls back. He kisses the smirk off her face.

“Good,” he says. “So you’re saying we could do this at other times of the day, then?”

“Mmm,” she agrees, slowing them down. He’s glad for it, knowing he needs to dial things back before they cross into any kind of behavior that might get her in professional trouble. “I’m hoping we can do that a lot.”

 

Octavia is insufferable on the ride home, both because she did, in fact, get a date with her midnight kiss partner, and because she caught Clarke giving Bellamy her number.

“I have the best ideas,” she gloats. “It’s okay, you can admit it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around her neck. “It worked out pretty well. _This_ time.”

“Not a bad way to start the year.”

“No,” he agrees. “Not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> OK so i'm attempting to post fills for my thing on mondays, thursdays and *saturdays but we'll see how that works out?


End file.
